


Unfaithful

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Drinking, F/M, Human Gabriel, Hurt Jack, Infidelity, Pining, Poor Jack, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: Based on “Unfaithful” by RihannaI can’t do this anymore.  I just can’t be the perfect wife to Strike Commander Jack Morrison any more.





	Unfaithful

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the song “Unfaithful” by Rhianna.

  
_Story of my life_  
_Searching for the right, but it keeps avoiding me_  
_Sorrow in my soul cause it seems that wrong_  
_Really loves my company_

Gabriel smiled at me warmly. “You comin’ by tonight, carino?”

I blushed and fluttered my lashes. “Maybe.”

“Got some plans,” he smirked wickedly. “Maybe I won’t be home if you don’t tell me now.”

“I have some plans,” I told him. “But they might—.”

Gabriel looked over my shoulder at ‘the old man’ himself. “Sir—here are the Blackwatch mission reports.”

Jack Morrison—the Strike Commander of Overwatch—looked at his friend with a smile. “Can’t wait,” he murmured, putting an arm over my shoulder. “Sweetheart—are you listening to this scoundrel?”

“Just normal stuff.” I shrugged. “The new shipments of ammunition just came and I was going to turn over the manifests for the Blackwatch team.” I flushed a little, glancing at the plain gold band on my left hand. I twitched a little, coming up with a story. “But we need to sort it all out because they shipped it all together and the Overwatch and Blackwatch inventories are all together.”

Jack nodded slightly. “That’s always a mess, sweetheart.” His blue eyes looked at me closely. “We need the ammo sorted out before the next deployment. But, hey, come home for dinner, okay? I put some ribs on the smoker.”

I nodded. In my head, I was ashamed. I wanted to tell him that I was not coming home. I wanted to tell him that I needed some space from him, from his overwhelming duties and the perfect public persona that made him a media darling. I wanted to scream that I was tired of being the perfect wife, the perfect partner who sent the world-wide hero off on missions with a smile and waited on camera for him to come home.

I was tired of the constant fishbowl and everyone staring at me...because of him.

 _He's more than a man, and this is more than love_  
_The reason that the sky is blue_  
_The clouds are rolling in, because I'm gone again_  
_And to him I just can't be true_

I couldn’t remember when meeting Gabriel Reyes began.

I was a Overwatch office person—it was part of being the perfect partner to the Strike Commander. I was often on camera, talking about this and that—offering the “human side” to the intimidating soldier that the cameras loved. It was billed as a romantic story—that we met at work and found love and got married. Then I was a media darling for a while and had a whole spread in Time as I waved good-bye to him as he left for another mission. The picture of me waving made it to the cover and became an icon of the bravery of Overwatch.

Gabriel had gotten in trouble—again—and was left behind to stew. So, as the perfect spouse, I was supposed to check on him. We ended up talking over some terrible taquitos and some awesome tequila. We weren’t going to let it go further, but as the mission stretched on and on, and we spent night after night together, it happened anyway.

 _And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful_  
_And it kills him inside_  
_To know that I am happy with some other guy_  
_I can see him dying_

Jack came back, of course, and we were instantly surrounded by the press as we were photographed kissing right in front of the drop ship. It was a brilliant PR move—a passionate kiss of the big hero and the little wife and all the feel-good and welcome-back kitch—and again we were all over the news.

It was harder than I thought to do the perfect spouse act now. He had barely broken the kiss with me before he was waving to the press and posing with the flag. The President had attended, surrounded by security agents, and with a medal in hand. As I stood, pleasantly clapping and smiling and dabbing my eyes with a white handkerchief at all the right times, Jack was farther away than ever.

And all the time, I was wanting to be at Gabriel’s place, slugging tequila shots and peeling him out of his sweat pants until I got a hold of his cock.

As the press finally left us alone, we stood there in the hangar—staring at each other. I was ready to get out of the dress and heels. Jacked looked ready to peel off the battle stained uniform.

“So is this the part when we get to go home?” He offered a sad smile to me. “Maybe even get to talk?”

“Yeah,” I sighed in relief.

“Good,” he nodded, sliding the strap of his famous pulse rifle to his shoulder. We walked in silence, side-by-side, to the parking lot. “I...I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been gone so long and I couldn’t stop thinking that you were waiting for me.”

He cocked his head a little. “You’ve been waiting for me, right?”

“Of course,” I replied softly.

“Good. I hate it when I leave you alone.” He gestured. “And when I get back, then I don’t get to see you for hours until the press is done.” He sighed as we walked to the parking lot. “I heard that you and Gabe were spending the evenings together.”

“Yes,” I whispered softly.

He looked at me a little wistfully. “What do you two do?”

“Mostly talk,” I replied, digging in my purse for the keys.

He smiled weakly. “Don’t let him get you playing cards.”

“Oh?”

“He cheats,” Jack grunted as he put his gear in the back. “But I’m glad that you have someone...else....”

I froze. What did he know about me and Gabriel?

He noticed my expression. “Hey—it’s all right. I’m glad that you have someone else to talk to. I know that the base is all but deserted sometimes.”

Another man in a business suit with dark glasses bustled up with a handful of papers. “Commander Morrison?” Jack nodded, his face suddenly in the picture perfect, magazine ready expression. “If you would come with me, sir. The President and Vice President would like a few more pictures.”

Jack nodded sternly. “Of course. Give me a minute to say good-bye to my wife.”

“Of course, sir,” he said, all but bowing and kissing Jack’s feet. “And...if you don’t mind, sir, could I get a photo. It’s for my kid.”

Jack patted my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “I’ll call you when I’m free. You head home.” Then he followed the guy away. “So, what is your kid’s name?”

He did eventually show up, of course, about six hours later. He had shaved and showered in the barracks and slid on the spare uniform he kept in his office. There were more press to talk to, to take photographs of the famous Strike Commander with the President and Vice President, and generate positive reviews of the efficiency and effectiveness of Overwatch. The officers’ mess was done up with flowers and booze for a reception.

After an hour and a half, he sent a little pink heart and a short message that he was eating at the reception. I messaged back that I’d go out to eat. I pulled off the cotton dress and put the roast chicken in the fridge. Sliding on some comfortably ripped jeans and a pink t-shirt with white skulls on it, I ran to Gabriel’s.

While I was drinking tequila with Gabe, Jack sent a message with a picture of the medal that he was awarded. When I had pulled off my jeans and he was sliding off the t-shirt to show him the new black lace bra and panties, he sent me a picture of him shaking hands with the President. When I was screaming Gabe’s name as he plowed into me, he sent me a shot of the huge mahogany and brass plaque awarded to the Overwatch team. When he sent a message that he was being debriefed and would be home soon, I was kissing Gabriel good-night with my underwear in my arms.

When his taxi finally rolled up, I was showered and in the other new pair of underwear—a pale cream lace bra with a matching thong. He smiled wearily as he dropped his stuff onto the table.

“Hi honey,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile. “I’m home.”

“Hi honey,” I whispered in reply as I lounged on the recliner where he could see me from the door.

He came up to me, pulling me up for a sweet kiss. “You look good enough to eat.” He pulled me to the bedroom without another word. I kissed him back, caressed his weary and bruised body, gave him what I thought he would want. He gasped as he finished, whimpering as weeks of absence poured into me. Kissing me, wiping us both with tissues and then cradling me close, he was almost reverent. And afterwards, he held me in silence. “Was it good for you, baby?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I replied sleepily.

He was quiet for a long moment and then whispered against my skin. “Don’t leave me, sweetheart.”

 _I don't wanna do this anymore_  
_I don't wanna be the reason why_  
_Everytime I walk out the door_  
_I see him die a little more inside_  
_I don't wanna hurt him anymore_  
_I don't wanna take away his life_  
_I don't wanna be a murderer_

We weren’t together for a week before Gabriel was called out for a mission. As the Strike Commander, of course he was there to send off the illicit team. As his picture ready wife, I was there as a silent support and to wish the team well.  
I was there to catch the wink that the Blackwatch commander gave before turning to load up on the drop ship.

I went back to our apartment with Jack. We ate a quick meal—neither of us were really hungry. He flipped through the sports channels and declared that nothing was on television. So, he came over, wrapping his arms around my waist as he stepped behind me while I washed some dishes. Kissing the back of my neck, he whispered, “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” I replied too quickly. “Why?”

“I got you in my sights,” he growled out with a laugh. “Seriously...did you think that I wouldn’t see him winking at you?” He shrugged. “I know that Blackwatch gets the shit missions, but Gabe will be okay. He’ll be back soon.”

I kept washing dishes. “He’s tough as nails. Just wish—.”

“Wish what?”

“Wish that you both didn’t have to clean up all the messes,” I snapped.

“Someone has to,” Jack said philosophically. “And I’d rather that it was me and Gabriel than some dishonest weasel.” He nuzzled my neck again. “I...I know that Gabriel is important to you—that he’s been a good friend while I’ve been gone.” He paused. “That’s what this is, right?”

I didn’t know what to say. “Of course we’re just friends.”

He nodded stiffly. “Okay. I’m glad that you’re friends with him too.” He waited for another moment. “Just...don’t leave me, okay?” His strong arms shook. “I.... God, you are the best thing in the world. I can’t wait to get through all the press and photos and stuff and can come home to you.”

His voice—that deep baritone—cracked a little. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you to come home to.” His hands on me shook. “I couldn’t do this without you. I couldn’t face the missions without knowing that you were here and safe.”

He kissed me again. “When you’re done, why don’t you come to the bedroom?” I nodded. “And wear that nice black lacy stuff that you accidentally dropped in the back of the closet.”

 _I feel it in the air as I'm doing my hair_  
_Preparing for another date_  
_A kiss upon my cheek_  
_As he reluctantly asks if I'm gonna be out late_  
_I say I won't be long, just hanging with the girls_  
_A lie I didn't have to tell_  
_Because we both know where I'm about to go_  
_And we know it very well_

Gabriel did come back. Blackwatch was deep under the radar of the press and when he did climb off the drop ship, there was no one waiting for him. He didn’t get the magazine covers, the photos with the President, the receptions and awards. He arrived to a small crowd of spouses and friends and fuck-buddies and a dirty hangar. They arrived at some terrible time in the early morning—and Jack left without me so that he could be there to encourage the team and to get the first reports.

There were problems with the reports. The mission had gone wrong and people had died. Jack and Gabriel argued wildly, shouting and screaming. Everyone heard it—but since everyone had heard it all before and they ignored it.

Jack came home and popped open a beer. Flopping down on the recliner, he watched as I pinned a big ribbon bow in my hair. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

“Out with some friends,” I replied.

“Anyone I know?”

“N-no,” I sighed. “Just some girls I met in town.” I picked up my purse and checked it, seeing the shiny brass spare key in the bottom. “We’re going to go see the new movie....”

“Ugh!” He smiled at me. “Not that awful Steven Hurst movie with the car chases and shooting.”

I nodded. He hated how Hollywood portrayed fights, espionage, the military, soldiers and death in general. He spent an hour and a half during our first date telling me how inaccurate it all was. But I was still addicted to them and throughout our relationship I had gone out to the movies without him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen that shirt before,” he remarked, sipping his beer.

“It’s new,” I murmured. “When I get back you can peel it off of me.”

He smiled wickedly. “What color underwear will I find underneath it?” I whirled and pulled the flowery blouse up to show him the cream colored lace bra. “Well, I’ll wait to see you later.”

I nodded with a small smile. I had my purse, the key, and some ready cash. Gabriel had picked up the tickets he purchased online so that I’d have the stubs. “So I’ll see you later?”

He nodded. Then my heart dropped as he said, “Tell Gabe I said ‘hi’.”

 _And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful_  
_And it kills him inside_  
_To know that I am happy with some other guy_  
_I can see him dying_

We still did the rounds—photo ops and presentations. Missions came and went and Jack started sleeping in his office. He told people that he “accidentally fell asleep” while he was trying to figure out the paperwork and mission reports.

Blackwatch and Overwatch were falling apart, though, and maybe it wasn’t accidental that he fell asleep in his office.

 _I don't wanna do this anymore_  
_I don't wanna be the reason why_  
_Every time I walk out the door_  
_I see him die a little more inside_  
_I don't wanna hurt him anymore_  
_I don't wanna take away his life_  
_I don't wanna be a murderer_

Jack and Gabe couldn’t pass in the halls anymore without snarling and snapping at each other. The best friends were arguing all the time now. Blackwatch was getting a terrible reputation as a barely legal operation and there were now even fewer recognitions for Gabriel’s team.

Jack began volunteering for missions just to get out of the base, which only made things worse. He kept getting recognition and we were dragged through press conferences and award presentations. I kept in the background—the flawless wife prop behind the hero. I even had a press liaison of my own to help coach me through all the interviews and photographs.

I hated it even more. Every time that we were told to smile, every time that the flash blinked, I only saw Gabriel’s disappointed face. His team was falling apart as people realized that the only way to be recognized and appreciated was to leave Blackwatch entirely. Gabriel was the one who did the truly abhorrent missions—the ones with high casualties and high risk—and he couldn’t even get his foot in the door for the reception celebrating the latest award to the team.

I begged Jack to at least bring in Gabriel. Recognize that it was his head in the noose and, even without the press and pomp and circumstance, give them some of the credit. Jack had plenty of excuses and Gabriel was regularly in trouble for infractions, so it never happened.

Jack began drinking. At first, it was a beer or two. Maybe three on the weekend. Then it was a six pack. Then it was a rather strong whiskey. His features were even sharper and he kept working later and later. He was sleeping regularly in his office—even paid for a new, longer couch in his corner office so that he wouldn’t get cramped.

He barely spoke to me some days. Our liaisons actually saw each other more than we did. We still appeared in public together and were photographed and quoted and more awards and attention. I still stood in the background, clapping and smiling and dabbing my eyes with white handkerchiefs as necessary.

And every time, when the press and media finally left us alone, he’d hold my hand and tell me, “I am so lucky to have you waiting for me at home. I couldn’t do this without you. I couldn’t face the missions without knowing that you were here and safe.“

 _Our love, his trust_  
_I might as well take a gun and put it to his head_  
_Get it over with_  
_I don't wanna do this anymore, woah_  
_Anymore_

I kept meeting Gabriel. Sometimes it felt like I was the only one who ever listened to him. He wanted to be in charge—he wanted the Blackwatch team to be recognized and awarded. He wanted the team with their heads on the line, with the most to lose, to get the lion’s share of the rewards.

I couldn’t blame him.

And Jack had been in the limelight for years. The press loved him. Photographs worshiped his chiseled profile, his perfect teeth, his muscular form. I couldn’t go through a week without having a microphone shoved in my face. He began getting casual commercial offers—modeling for exercise equipment, television commercials for stuff, print ads for underwear and jewelry. He had been photographed with celebrities and politicians and a nod from him was high enough praise that it could swing whole voting blocks.

At home, he was a disaster. He spent more time drinking, swilling the sharp smelling whiskey. He’d watch as I came and went, sitting in the recliner and drinking until I got back. Then he’d tell me to shower and we’d go sleep in the big bed together.

Then, one night I came in very late. I had actually been with some girls this time, celebrating Tracer’s birthday at an English pub. The girl could drink anyone under the table and she was amazingly good at darts. I lost fifty or so before I decided to not to lose any more and get a taxi home.

He was sitting up, not watching the stock market reports on the television. I came in, weaving uncertainly and burbling on about the silk scarf I had bought her. He only grunted, nodding silently. I went up to him and touched his arm.

Then I saw the small, well maintained pistol in his hand.

“You’re not going to leave me, are you, sweetheart?”

“N-n-no, of course not.” My voice shook a bit as he pointed it to the television and looked down the sites at the newscaster. I could smell the whiskey in the air and the bottle I bought yesterday was in the trash can.

“I couldn’t do this without you.” His voice was hollow, distant. “I couldn’t face the missions without knowing that you were here and safe.”

 _I don't wanna do this anymore_  
_I don't wanna be the reason why_  
_Everytime I walk out the door_  
_I see him die a little more inside_  
_I don't wanna hurt him anymore_  
_I don't wanna take away his life_  
_I don't wanna be a murderer_

I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t be the sole thing holding up Jack Morrison while he and Gabriel tear each other apart. There is supposed to be an announcement from Blackwatch—the first one in over three years—and Gabriel warned me to go to a hotel off-base and to lay low.

I don’t want to be the perfect Mrs. Morrison, standing beside the hero as he is given another award. I don’t want to be the cardboard character with the handkerchief. I don’t want to be there; smiling my fake, perfect smile as he shakes hands with Somebody again.

But he had the gun out again last night. He worked the trigger, oiling every piece of the pistol, counting the bullets. And again he said “I couldn’t do this without you. I couldn’t face the missions without knowing that you were here and safe”.


End file.
